Page 93 of If All Else Sails
So...I didn’t tell her.
In my defense, she didn’t ask.
Okay—I realize this is a terrible defense. No defense at all, really.
But I wanted her here.Neededher here. This trip feels likeit—one big chance to finally tell Josie how I feel.
Clearly, broaching the subject on the first night was a mistake. I need to slow down, even if I feel like I’ve already been waiting forever. Josie has to set the pace. If there willbea pace.
Please let there be a pace.
If Josie isn’t ready yet, I won’t force her. But I won’t say goodbye at the end of this without letting her know how I feel. Which starts by making her feel safe.
Josie and I are quiet, sipping coffee as the colors start to wash over the sky, going from pastel to blinding brilliance, our hands still clasped. It’s a perfect moment. And while I want so much more, for now this is enough.
“I’m excited about the Great Bridge Lock,” Josie says after finishing off her coffee.
“Yeah?”
“It’s the only lock on this stretch of the Intracoastal,” she says like she’s reading straight from the guidebook she’s always lugging around. “Did you know that today and tomorrow we’ll pass every kind of bridge and have every kind of experience that we’ll find on the whole stretch of the ICW? My book calls it an appetizer.”
“Sounds delicious,” I say, and she elbows me lightly. “Have you memorized that book?”
“I wish. But I have highlighted, underlined, and tabbed it about to death.”
“Tabbed?”
Josie proceeds to tell me about tabbing books, a subject she apparently can talk at length on. Normally, I guess, it’s something people do for fiction books, but she applied it to her guidebook. While the sun continues its slow ascent, painting Josie’s cheeks with a gorgeous glow, I watch her mouth and hereyes and her hair as it steadily escapes from her messy bun with every passionate gesture of her hands.
I want more moments like this. In fact, I wantnothingbut these kinds of moments stretching out ahead of me for as long as possible. Quiet mornings and afternoons and evenings with Josie telling me about things I only care about because they matter to her.
Chapter22
Keeping the Professional Nurse Hat On
Josie
A girl could get used to this, I think while brushing my teeth after breakfast.
The kind of deep, satisfying sleep that comes from exhaustion, made sweeter by the gentle rock of a boat. A lazy, early morning on the water, drinking coffee and talking with Wyatt about books.
Holding his hand was a surprise bonus. Also surprising: what he shared this morning.
And last night. Especially last night. The things he said. The way his eyes darkened to slate as he spoke. How good it felt when he pulled me against his chest and held me.
I’m still processing all of it.
Too bad my processing is taking place at the speed of aten-year-old PC where someone clicked on every pop-up and sketchy email link.
It’s dumb to think about getting used to this, though, considering the fact that after this trip, we’ll head back to our respective cities miles and miles and miles apart. Where Wyatt is a famous hockey player and I am me—a woman who spends her days putting My Little Pony Band-Aids on skinned knees and looking at real estate she can’t afford.
Correction:couldn’tafford.
It’s weird, though, how I can house hunt for real now...but still haven’t. Not once since coming to Kilmarnock. Now, the idea of buying a house and settling into my life the way I always planned has started to sound like a consolation prize. A participation trophy.
That isnotgood.
Because if my life plans now seem underwhelming with a side of meh, there is one reason. And that reason is up on deck somewhere, waiting for me. Probably with a scowl on his handsome face.
